Few and Far Between
by The Crow and the Butterfly
Summary: A set of drabbles: mostly pointless, plotless, and romance-free. 2: Sid ponders the human condition. Maxxie wonders what color he comes off as. Tony reckons Sid ought to have auditioned for the Harry Potter films. Art class in a nutshell.
1. Metaphorically Speaking

It's finally happened: I've fallen back in love with Skins again. And therefore, I'm popping into the fandom for a bit to post a set of ficlets. I've really only got four ideas, so that might be where it stops, but at least those four are pretty much already fully formed.

So off we go. Hope I haven't got anyone too horribly out of character (I don't remember that much about series three, so I've probably fucked_ something_ up). Enjoy. Review. Yeah.

* * *

If there was something to be said for Pandora, it was that she had an extremely trusting mum. Even after the incident at her seemingly innocent pajama party, her mother still left Pandora alone for extended hours every now and then, faithful that she wouldn't do anything stupid. Then again, it had probably been Panda's idea to play Hide-and-Go-Seek. But when you're strung out on whatever it was that Cook had in his pocket and bored out of your skull, you're up for anything.

One thing that couldn't be said for Pandora was that her house had a variety of creative places to hide. Effy had melted into the shadows before anyone realized she had even moved, and Naomi had wedged herself underneath the sofa right away, but that had left the rest of them rather stranded. After a moment of awkward hesitation, Cook headed upstairs with Thomas on his heels, Katie darted down a hall to their left, and Freddie had given up completely and run outside.

"Fourteen…" called Pandora, shaking with excitement. "Fifteen… Sixteen…"

Emily glanced around, panicked. Where the fuck had everybody gone? She made a mental list. Naomi was here, Katie was that way, Cook and Thomas were somewhere above them. Freddie was long gone and Effy was God-knows-where. J.J.? She'd lost him completely.

"Twenty-two, twenty-three..."

Frantically opening kitchen cabinets at random, Emily swore under her breath.

There really wasn't anywhere to hide in this house. No nooks or crannies, no secret passageways, no dumbwaiters nor cupboards-under-the-stairs. She looked over at Pandora again.

"Twenty-eighttt… twenty-ninnne… annnnd…"

With a last-second stroke of inspiration, Emily stuffed herself into a hall closet, fell against something alive, and clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming.

"Thirty! Ready-or-not-here-I-come!" Panda's footsteps pattered off down the hall.

"Emily?"

She squinted at the blurred shape whose hiding spot she'd intruded upon. "Is that you, J.J.?" she replied in a hoarse whisper.

"You've stepped on my foot," J.J. said, not in a tone of annoyance, but simply to inform.

Emily groaned. "Yeah, I'd noticed."

There was a brief moment of stuffy silence. Emily sat down on a plastic box and knocked over a tennis racket.

"Does anyone else find this slightly ironic?" asked J.J. to the closet at large.

"What are you getting at?" Emily arched a single eyebrow, but the effect of the gesture was somewhat diminished in the darkness.

She felt him shrug. "Here I am, with Emily Fitch..." he replied simply, "in the closet."

"Fuck, J.J." Emily glared at him, pushing herself backwards into a couple winter coats. "Don't you start on me now. I get enough of that, thanks."

"I'm just saying," he defended. "It's really quite an accurate metaphor, if one thinks about it."

"Can't we both just shut up?" With an affronted sniff, Emily leaned over and pressed her ear against the closet door. "We'll get found."

J.J. lowered his voice to a whisper, but otherwise ignored the warning. "And I'm sure you've noticed the lack of available female companionship in here. I'm the best you're going to get." Something rustled above her, and Emily found a floaty silk something in her face. "If I put on this lovely ladies' scarf and your eyes didn't adjust to the dark for some reason, it might not be too bad, but if we got far enough, I'm sure you'd be fairly disappointed."

She had to force herself not to giggle. "Seriously," she said, shaking her head stubbornly, "can we not get into this right now?"

"Of course," replied J.J. "It's never the right time to confront oneself, is it?"

Pandora ran by again, this time clearly with more companions.

"Oh, for fuck's sake." Emily crossed her arms. "Can't you just lay off? If anything, you owe me."

"Too right I do, Ems." He nodded, somewhat hesitantly. "How wrong I was to take advantage of one who so obviously wants another..."

"Oh, for Christ's-"

Emily's thought was cut short as someone barreled into the closet, slamming the door as quietly as possible. All three of them jumped in surprise.

"Fucking hell, who else is in here?" muttered the newest arrival in a somewhat disgruntled manner.

"Naomi?" Emily tried her best to make out the girl's face, moving her leg awkwardly out of the way to make room for a third person.

"Too much dust under the sofa," explained Naomi. "Couldn't breathe. Not that I think it's going to be much better in here."

J.J. sighed, staring at the two girls silhouetted in the darkness. "Speak of the devil and he shall appear."

Naomi's head snapped around. "Pardon?"

"Nothing," he replied hurriedly. "Don't mind me."

* * *

Next one'll be up sometime soon. Probably.

-TCATB


	2. Monochrome

Nameless Anonymous Reviewer #2 said it best, albeit with several grammar and spelling errors. Join the war on angst!

Alright, perhaps not. I've got nothing against a smidgen of angstiness every now and then (this fandom is a bit of a bad place for you if that's something you can't stand). But this one is rather silly and useless. It amuses me.

* * *

Sid tilted his head to either side, then turned his sketch of a self-portrait upside-down to see if it looked any better that way. "I hate this class," he muttered ruefully. "I hate school. I'm rubbish at everything."

"You're tracing your own fucking photo, Sidney," Tony said. "How difficult can it be?"

"I can barely even see it through the canvas," he replied defensively. "And sitting next to him," -he jerked a thumb at Maxxie- "doesn't make me feel any better."

Maxxie looked up from his plate, where he had been focused on mixing about every shade of green paint imaginable. "Sorry, what did you say?"

"Nothing," Sid sighed. He propped his chin up in his hand dejectedly and blew his bangs from his forehead. "I wonder whether I ought to just cover the thing in big colored swirls and say it represents the turmoil of the human condition, or some conceptual bullshit like that."

"Then you'd fail." Tony shook his head, penciling in the curve of his lower lip. "It's a self-portrait, not a political statement."

"My own inner turmoil, then."

Tony rolled his eyes. "_What_ inner turmoil?" He glanced over at Sid's drawing, amused. "Besides, it'd be a shame to ruin it. You've got quite a nice picture of Harry Potter, there. What do you think, Maxxie? He could give Daniel Radcliffe a run for his money, couldn't he?"

"Oh, shut up, Tone." Maxxie leaned around Sid to judge Tony's own portrait. "Yours looks a bit like one of the Beatles, anyway."

"Well, as long as it's not Ringo, I don't mind." Tony shrugged. "So you're going to paint yours in green?"

Maxxie paused, his paintbrush hovering an inch above the canvas. "Do you think I should? I might just do another color, though. I think I'd look a bit sick."

Sid put his canvas down and looked at Maxxie's flawless self-portrait. "You could do blue?"

"Nah, too sad. Too Smurf." Maxxie waved a dismissing hand, his paintbrush nearly catching Sid's nose. "Sorry."

"Your loss," said Tony. He reached over Sid to grab the bottle of blue paint. "I'll do blue, then."

"Well, what color do you think I should do?" asked Maxxie, growing a bit desperate. "Tony?"

Tony tilted his head, staring at Maxxie objectively. "Could you be yellow? Or is that too Simpsons?"

"Seriously, mate." Maxxie held his sketch up next to his face and watched Sid and Tony expectantly. "When you think of me, what color do you think of? Be honest." He glanced around at the rest of the classroom. "Anyone?"

Tony shrugged nonchalantly, a faint smile playing at his lips. "Rainbow."

* * *

I miss them. Very much.

They're doing monochromatic self-portraits, if it matters especially. Paint yourself in one color. I think I might have done those when I was about thirteen, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

I was red-orange, I believe.


End file.
